Facing Your Fears
by skygirl55
Summary: Post 3X24 "Knockout" What could have happened after Kate was shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I wrote this story in 2011 - after the Season 3 finale - so please keep in mind that nothing after episode 3X24 had happened (which is why Kate's injuries aren't concurrent with the show, their new captain isn't Gates, etc), but I found it when going through some of my old stuff and I really like it so I'm going to post it. Enjoy!**

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Martha descended the stairs fresh from a luxurious bubble bath. She gathered the tie strands of her silk robe as she went, knotting them at her hip. The time in the evening had come for one of life's simplest pleasures: a nightcap.

As she rounded the bend in the L-shaped staircase she spotted her son, a statue in the same position from an hour and a half earlier when she'd excused herself to her claw-footed oasis. The same position he'd been in since that morning's coffee. And, come to think of it, the same position he'd been in the day before. And the day before that.

He sat on the sofa, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. Laptop computer open in his lap. The screen remained unchanging for that entire period. A blank word document was open, the cursor blinking tauntingly in the upper left hand corner of the screen. The vertical line flashed persistently, daring a keystroke to be made. Though his fingertips rested just above the keys, not a letter had been typed.

Martha stood a foot behind the sofa and gazed sympathetically at her boy. She felt for him; it had been a rough few weeks. Chasing yet another killer. Facing the possibility of being chased by that killer. All his disagreements with Beckett. And, on top of all that, persistent calls from his ex (times two) slash publisher demanding a plot outline for the fourth yet-to-be-named Nikki Heat novel.

"Richard," she began softly so as not to startle him.

He started away and moved his laptop aside. "Yes, Mother? Did you need something?"

"Other than you to stop moping around?"

"I'm not moping; I'm working!" he defended. Martha eyed the laptop and "hmmed" under her breath. "I am working."

"Of course you are, Darling. I just wanted to make sure you're doing alright."

He plastered an appeasing smile across his face. "Just fine."

"Have you heard from her?"

"From who?" he asked with utmost casualty as he picked his laptop back up from the sofa.

"Richard," she glared as she folded her arms over her chest. "Do not 'from who' me. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

"No, I have not heard from Beckett," he informed her, monotonously. "But that's not surprising. Considering."

"Considering? Please. You two had a fight. You're old enough to understand the concept—you say things you don't mean, you apologize, you move on. I think diving on top of her in an attempt to save her from a bullet classifies as an apology."

"But I didn't," he muttered.

Martha sighed and shook her head. She'd had the "It's not your fault Kate was shot" conversation with him no less than three times since the event but for some reason it wasn't sinking in. "Perhaps you should go and visit her; that might make you feel better."

"Can't," he said absentmindedly. "She was released from the hospital today."

"Oh?"

He glanced over his shoulder and flushed under his mother's curious expression. "Ryan texted me," he admitted.

"Well this is even better—you can visit her at home."

"That would be rude," he said quickly. Martha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I mean, she just got home; she needs to rest."

"Okay, I'll give you that, but you should at least call her. Let her know you're thinking about her…" she said leading as much as she could.

"You're right; I am her partner after all."

"Partner. Right." Martha said dully while thinking her honed acting skills of subtly were completely wasted on the male sex. "Well I'm off to bed. Promise me you'll at least try to get some sleep tonight?"

He smiled. "I promise. Goodnight Mother."

When he heard her footsteps on the stairs, Rick turned back to his computer. Enough with this blank word document, he told himself. An outline; he needed an outline. He'd written dozens of them, probably one hundred if you counted all the failed novel ideas. Outlines were simple. He just needed a direction. Scratch that. He needed a direction…and a snack.

Depositing his laptop on the couch once more, he stood and arched his back, stretching out his vertebra. After the last satisfying pop of realignment, he lowered his arms and took one step towards the kitchen. Just as he did so, the doorbell rang.

Perplexed, he glanced at the clock with the mirror face just beside the entry way. Who was visiting him after eleven p.m. on a Wednesday night? Alexis was out with friends, enjoying her summer vacation. His mother's only callers were acting students who visited during the daytime hours.

His mystery writer mind spinning with possibilities, he crossed his apartment and whipped open the door. His unexpected visitor was not looking like her normal sexy-as-hell self. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her cheeks appeared more sunken and certainly less rosy. She wore no makeup (not that it mattered; her natural beauty was just as disarming).

"Kate," he exhaled, alarmed by the heavy sling apparatus on her right side.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly, tucking a strand of hair back from her face with her left hand.

"Yeah-yes. Yes please come in. Sit down!" he insisted suddenly with alarm. "You should sit down! Didn't you just get out of the hospital?"

"I'm fine Castle," she insisted with a casual hand wave as she crossed the threshold of his home. When she walked by him, he noted that she wore a zip-front grey hooded sweatshirt with the NYPD logo and navy blue sweatpants. Due to their friends-and-or-partners-only relationship, he had yet to see her in this level of casual dress. Had he not been so concerned for her health, he would have been entertained by it.

"A-are you sure you're alright?" he asked, trailing behind her in his perfected manner. She nodded as she sat down on the couch, insisting she was fine, though he noted a wince cross her face and her left hand instinctively went towards her right arm. "You should be resting," he told her.

"That's what my father said when he dropped me off at home, but I just couldn't stay in my apartment any longer."

"Any longer? You've been in a hospital for two weeks!"

"Yes, Castle, in a hospital, stuck in one single room. It was worse than prison."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Somehow I doubt that." She glanced over at him and smiled gently as well.

Silence hung between them for a moment before she looked to him and said, "Thanks for the flowers. All the flowers."

"You're welcome," he smiled. He'd sent her a different bouquet for every day of her hospitalization making the local florist very happy. "I wasn't sure what you liked so I had to send a variety."

"Daises," she told him with a nod. "But any flower is nice. Oh, and, thanks for the chocolate…and the balloons."

He laughed inwardly. "I was covering my bases in case flowers weren't your thing."

She nodded with a smile. "It was very sweet, Castle."

"Well, I…how's your shoulder?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly when he felt that familiar thickness in the back of his throat.

She tilted her head quickly to the side, indicating indifference. "It's still there. Doctors say I have to wear this thing for at least two more weeks _and_ they won't release me to go back to work until its gone—and maybe not even then!" she insisted with notable horror.

"You need to rest, Kate, and take care of yourself."

His soft tone made the hair on her arms stand up. She could hear just how much he cared. "I know, people keep telling me."

"So naturally you think we're all just making it up…"

She eyed him, annoyed. "No, I know I just…I can't sleep."

"Well I'm sure my mother has some-"

"No, Castle, I can't sleep because he's out there. He's out there and with each passing day the trail gets colder and-"

"Stop," he said, placing his right hand over her left. "We'll find him. We'll find him. You, me, Ryan, Esposito—we'll all work together and we'll find him, but right now you need to rest."

"You're right," she admitted lowering her gaze to the floor.

Her hair fell across her face and he could not see her expression. Then again, he thought to himself, considering she might be the one person who possessed a better poker face than he, seeing her expression might not have done any good. He needed to do what he always did—go with his gut. Unfortunately, at that moment his gut was infested with butterflies.

His heart fluttering at a rapid pace, he blurted out as calmly as he could manage, "Why don't you just stay here?"

Her head whipped in his direction, tossing all her hair back in a heart-pounding swoop. "Here?"

"S-sure. I mean, that way I can make sure you're really resting. You can take my bed." He stood and took one step in the direction of the master suite, indicating his seriousness. Much to his surprise, she did not argue or protest. She stood at a notably slower pace than usual and began to follow.

Noting her slow gait, he put a gentle hand on her upper back which earned him a snippy, "I can walk," from her.

"Sorry," he mumbled and instinctively jerked back his hand. Ten steps later, he opened his bedroom door and ushered her inside.

Kate gazed around at the room she'd yet to explore in Chez Castle. The bed was nestled among black built-in shelves which were, unsurprisingly, full of books. Dozens of titles—paperback and soft back—lined the walls, the colors of their spines creating a unique artistic effect. The king sized bed was unmade and the granite-toned sheets were balled up in the middle, leaving a Castle-shaped spot open on the side closest to them.

"Is this ok?" he questioned softly.

She turned and smiled at him. "It's perfect. Thanks Castle."

He nodded and opened his lips tentatively. "Is…is there anything I can get you? Help you with? Y-your shoes? Can I help you take them off?" Normally, suggesting that Kate Beckett, superwoman, could not take care of herself would be a fate worse than death. However, given the logistics of her bandaged arm, he thought just maybe she needed an extra hand and knew full well she'd never ask.

"Um, yeah, actually that—that would be great." By the time she'd lowered herself on to the mattress he was already kneeling on the floor, untying the laces of her Nikes. As he removed the first shoe, he asked if she wanted her socks on or off. "Off," she told him.

Following her instruction, he slipped his fingers between the top of her sock and leg and guided the item over her heel and off her foot. This simple, care-giving action made Kate's fingertips dig in to the sheet and her breath hitch in her chest. As he went for the other sock, no question existed in her mind: it was happening—tonight.

After putting her socks in her shoes and her shoes by the wall, he looked back over his shoulder about to ask if she needed anything else, but the moment he locked eyes with her, he forgot every word in the English language. Desire burned in her gaze unlike he'd ever seen before. Suddenly he understood exactly where the character name "Nikki Heat" emanated from.

"I-"

"Shh," she hushed him quickly. She reached out her left hand to grab his shirt, but there was no need; his lips were already halfway to hers. Their lips met in what was technically their second kiss but after being partners for three years, they both knew it was the prelude to so much more.

Still in his kneeling position, his hands settled on her hips, his little fingers brushing against the mattress. He felt her left hand brush against the back of his neck and wondered at that moment if it was possible to lose consciousness from being overwhelmed by emotion.

His desire for Katherine Beckett formed somewhere in between the first minute he met her and the second minute after he met her. At that stage it was pure lust driving him. She was a sexy, headstrong cop who could kick his ass in to the next decade if she chose. He was in awe of her. Working with her was a mixture of a dream and a joke. A cop he was not, but what little boy didn't want to go around hunting bad guys fighting for truth, justice and the American way?

As their relationship progressed from annoyer/annoyee to partners his lust turned to respect turned to friendship and, finally, turned to love. Despite his many trysts, Richard Castle had only truly loved four women in his life: his college girlfriend—the one that got away, Alexis's mother, his second wife (though some days that love was arguable), and her. He may have been skilled at writing about love, creating the fantasy and the romance, but feeling it? That was a different story.

He broke their kiss and somehow by the will of god was able to put one syllable together. "Kate."

"Don't," she shook her head, diving in for another kiss, but he leaned away.

"But Kate-"

"Don't," she repeated. "Don't, Rick, not tonight."

He was thrown off at the sound of his rarely used first name but recovered quickly. "I was merely going to point out your injury."

She smirked a sexy, knowing smirk. "So don't throw me against the headboard and I'll be fine." With this final comment she got her way and his lips were back on hers.

Slowly, using her left hand as a guide, she backed her way towards the center of the mattress, allowing him to join her on the king-sized area. In that moment she had never been more annoyed with her immobilized limb. Pain she could put up with, but only being able to run one of her hands through his floppy-yet-sexy hair? That was torture!

His brain barely functioning at that point, Rick's hands instinctively went towards the zipper on her sweatshirt and he encountered his first problem. He stopped kissing her and stared without subtlety at her chest. "What?" she asked breathlessly.

"I literally have no idea how to undress you."

She let out an airy laugh. "Come to think of it, I don't know if I do either!"

"That could be a problem."

"I just need to take this off," she said, reaching for the Velcro strap of her arm brace. He stopped her with his hand atop hers.

"But it's a cast."

"No, it's a brace," she corrected. "The doctor told me I could shower without it."

Rick pushed the image of wet, naked Kate from his mind and began to assist her with the sling. Once the Velcro had been unattached from her arm and from behind her neck, the item slipped right off. She winced and pulled her arm against her chest. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it when she shot him a challenging look.

With their first injury-based hurdle cleared their lips joined together once more and Rick returned to his prior task. He unzipped at a rapid pace and slipped one hand under the garment only to find she wore nothing underneath. Unable to resist a moan as he did so, he ran his fingers across one of her firm breasts before pushing the shirt off her left shoulder.

"I got it," she whispered, sensing his hesitation. She pulled her left arm free and used her hand to guide the item off her right side as carefully as she could. Even with the slow pace, it caused just as much pain coming off as it did going on. With her arm finally freed she tossed the item on to the floor and looked back to her companion. His eyes were trained on her mid-chest region.

At first, she was irritated with his slack-jawed ogling, thinking it was directed at her breasts, but then she remembered the bandages and bruising covering most of her upper right side. "Hey," she sighed, calling his attention back to the present. "Help me lay down."

Her voice pulled him from his flashback to the cemetery where she was bleeding out in his arms. "Wha-uh, oh. Are you sure that this is a good idea if-"

"I have to lay down to sleep, don't I? It's not like we could avoid this part," she informed him practically. Though he had his doubts, he obliged her request and cradled her torso as she reclined against the pillows. Her face contorted with pain for a moment after she was down. "I'm okay," she insisted, though her eyes remained shut.

He squeezed her hand solidly and watched her take several deep breaths obviously trying to escape the discomfort. She squeezed back for a moment then opened her eyes and smiled softly. Taking this clue he lay beside her and kissed her sweetly. Then he moved his lips down over her jaw line, across her throat, and down to her collar bone.

When he met the bandages he stopped and merely rested his lips against the center of her chest. The horrible memories from that day were burned so deeply in his mind he knew he would not forget them even if he lived one hundred more years. The reflection off the shooters sight glass. The sickening sound of bullet meeting flesh. The smell of iron as her blood coated his hands. The way her eyes rolled back in her head as he professed his feelings for her. The moment before Lanie checked her vital signs when he thought he'd lost her forever. But she wasn't gone. She was there, with him, in his bed and he would not take that for granted.

After giving her breasts the attention they deserved he removed her sweats and panties, trying his best to do so without jostling her upper body. She teased him about his fully dressed state and he responded by whipping off his clothing at a lightning-fast pace. As he made love to her, he was constantly torn between three years of pent up sexual tension and her obvious injury, which seemed to cause pain with even the slightest movement.

He let her name spill off his tongue as he climaxed and she did the same. Spent, he was about to collapse beside her when he remembered the brace for her arm. It took him a moment to find it in the pile of discarded clothing, but when he did, he helped her secure it to her right side and then joined her beneath the sheets, where she was already asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hiding a yawn behind her right hand, Alexis descended the stairs. Why did summer make it so hard to sleep in with its blindingly bright early sunrises? Granted, it did not help that she had an east-facing room. Perhaps, she wondered, an earlier bedtime was required, but where was the fun in that?

"Morning Gran," she spoke as she shuffled her way in the kitchen, searching for a caffeine fix.

"Shh," Martha hushed her. "You'll wake your father."

"Wake him…." Alexis repeated, perplexed as to why that would be an issue.

Martha set down the open _New York Times_ beside her orange juice glass. "More accurately, you'll wake his guest." Alexis arched an eyebrow. "Detective Beckett."

"No way!" she gasped a few decibels louder than she should have. Once again her grandmother hushed her and she continued more quietly, "You're kidding! Are you sure?"

"Positive," Martha proclaimed proudly. "She stopped by around eleven thirty and I'm sure she didn't leave. What time did you get home?"

"Just before one. I didn't see them."

"Well obviously they'd already gone to bed by that point."

"Ohhh—ew!" she scrunched up her nose on her way to the refrigerator. She supported her father's relationship with the detective as much as anyone else, but she certainly didn't need to visualize it. She shook her head, trying to rid her mind's eye of the image, and turned back to her grandmother. "So Kate was released from the hospital then?"

"Evidently, but that's all I know. I was upstairs and after I heard who was at the door I stopped listening. I just hope-"

Martha was interrupted by the front door opening and Rick slipping in as stealthily as possible. He wore jeans and a polo shirt, his hair messy. He carried in his right hand a paper bag and, somewhat alarmingly, a black purse. Before he could take more than three steps towards his bedroom door, he was interrupted by a not-so-subtle throat clearing.

Rick straightened his posture and turned to face his curious family. "Good Morning everyone."

"Good morning," the two ladies replied. "You're up early," Martha added.

"Well yes, um, I just…wanted to run some errands before it got too crowded," he explained rationally.

"Oh well it's a good thing you didn't forget your purse then," Martha said, casually sipping from her orange juice glass.

Caught, Rick's shoulders slouched. "Kate needed her medications, which she left at her apartment…along with her purse, apparently."

"So you went all the way to her apartment to get them for her? Dad, that's so sweet," Alexis smiled. He smiled in return before slipping in to his bedroom.

Much to his relief, she was still asleep in the same position he left her, surrounded on all sides by pillows, lifting and tilting her body in to the only position she deemed comfortable. He set the items she requested on the nightstand and then returned to the kitchen area to retrieve a glass of water for her to have with her pills. Luckily, neither of the other women in his life commented about his unexpected guest and he was able to return to the bedroom in silence.

He attempted to sit down on the bed as gingerly as he could but his mission failed and her eyelids began to flutter. "Good morning…again," he sighed. They'd both been awake at five-thirty and discussed her medication situation, hence his early morning retrieval mission.

"Good morning," she repeated, finally opening her eyes. Her gaze softened at the sight of his oversized grin.

"How are you feeling? Did you sleep alright?"

"As good as could be expected."

"Here," he spoke as he passed water, paper bag of medication bottles, and purse across the bed to her. She thanked him and began rummaging through the sack with her left hand. Four pills later she returned the lids to the bottles and set them back in the bag.

"I should get going," she said as she began to push herself up in to a sitting position despite the agony that movement caused.

"Hey, slow down there," he said reaching out his arms, unsure of what way he could help her. "You don't have to fly out of here. What's the rush?"

She said nothing, but the look on her face indicated that her brain was going through its fight-or-flight protocol. "I'm serious," he continued. "Let me make you breakfast. Then I can draw you a bath—I have a big Jacuzzi tub," he said enticingly.

"Castle, I didn't come here so you could take care of me," she told him matter-of-factly.

"I know that."

She groaned, half with pain, half with annoyance. "So stop trying to take care of me."

"Kate Beckett you were shot. You have a broken collar bone, two broken ribs and a collapsed lung; you are in no state to be alone."

"Thank you; I am well aware of my injuries. I'll be just fine; you don't need to help me bathe."

"But I've already seen you naked," he jested in a deep tone. She glared at him. "Ok, ok. At least let me make you breakfast?"

Kate agreed simply because she knew he'd never back down otherwise. After the painful task of dressing herself (he offered to help her, but she refused) she followed him out of the bedroom only to come face to face with his mother and daughter, both sitting at the kitchen counter grinning at her. "Hi…" she said dumbly.

"Hello," the replied in unison, their smiles growing wider if that was at all possible.

While her traitorous partner completely ignored the situation and went directly to the fridge to retrieve breakfast-making items, Kate was left to deal with the awkwardness. She cleared her throat absentmindedly as she approached the counter, tip-toeing as though silent movements would make her presence less noticeable. Alexis kindly pulled out a chair for her and Kate thanked her quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Alexis asked.

"Uh," Kate began, rubbing her injured arm gingerly, "alright, I guess."

"I would think you'd be feeling much better after last night," she said. The three adults in the room shot the younger girl incredulous stares and she blushed immediately. "I-I mean because you were finally home from the hospital! Sleeping in a real bed!"

"Oh, right yes," Kate said, trying to reduce her heart rate back to normal. "Yes, sleeping in the hospital was not all that restful." She reached for the glass of orange juice Rick had set in front of her and took a long sip, debating on whether or not to drown herself in it.

"I do hope you're taking some time off to rest and get better, Dear," Martha said to her.

"Some time, but I'm hoping to get back to work as soon as possible."

"But not too soon," Rick said in an almost warning way. Kate noticeably ignored him as she sipped her juice once more. "Okay, who else wants eggs?"

"None for me," Martha said as she slid off her chair, coffee cup in hand. She walked with the cup to the sink and deposited it inside. "I'm off—the work of a dedicated teacher is never done." With that comment she whisked herself up the stairs.

"I'm going to have brunch with some friends," Alexis told her father. Then she turned to Kate. "I'm glad you're ok, Kate, and I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you, Alexis." Kate smiled at the younger girl until she too disappeared up the steps. Then, she turned to her kitchen companion, covered her face with her left hand and moaned.

"Well at least that wasn't awkward," he quipped as he cracked half a dozen eggs in a mixing bowl.

"That was horrible!" she insisted, combing hair back from her face.

"Oh it wasn't that bad. At least you're not a woman they've never seen before, dressed in red sequined dress while Alexis asks if she can start wearing party dresses to breakfast…not that that ever happened," he added casually at the intrigued look on her face.

"I'm sure."

"So what am I doing here? Scrambled or omelet? I'm sure I've got some mushrooms, maybe some tomatoes or spinach. I make a mean western, too," he said, gesturing towards her with his spatula.

"Just scrambled; I'm not that hungry."

His brow wrinkled with concern. "But you've got to eat and keep up your strength."

"Tell that to the three out of four medications I'm on which have nausea as a side effect."

Rick gave a conceding nod and turned his spatula back to the skillet in front of him. As the eggs cooked, he put four slices of bread in to the toaster. He retrieved two types of grated cheese from the refrigerator along with butter and jam for their toast.

Kate watched as he worked, impressed by his domesticity. True, he had made her breakfast before, but scrambling eggs was not the rocket science of culinary talents. Heck, even her minimal skill allowed her to do that. But this—the casual comfort he had going back and forth between the stove, the cabinets and refrigerator—was skill.

Ten minutes later, he presented her with two plates, both with two slices of toast—cut in half diagonally—and equal portions of eggs. "Viola," he smiled.

She could not help but smile in return. "It looks lovely, thank you."

He joined her at the counter and they ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. He could not help but watch her from the corner of his eye. It was clear she was frustrated with having to use her non-dominant hand to feed herself. He sympathized. He would have hated to have to use his left hand for everything. Worse yet, she only had one hand to use at all, but he knew she'd never voice any requests for aid or assistance; it wasn't her style.

"I can drive you home after you're finished eating," he offered.

She let out a bark of a laugh. "In the Ferrari? No thanks."

"I have a regular car, too," he told her with a slightly annoyed edge.

"I'm fine taking the subway."

"The subway! You're-" he froze mid-sentence. She was giving him that look that meant "This is your warning. Continue and you'll be sorry," so he bit his bottom lip and picked up a piece of toast to butter.

After finishing everything on her plate, Kate dabbed her lips with a napkin and pushed the plate away. She then rotated her body towards him as much as her injury would allow and took a deep breath. "Castle about last night…"

He gazed over to her and immediately knew their conversation was not going to be a good one. She was wearing her "Beckett is serious so don't joke" face and he just knew.

"We're both adults, we've known each other for three years, and I don't want anything to be misinterpreted so I'm just going to be honest with you."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Last night was wonderful. It's not exactly what I was looking for when I came over here, but I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind. Either way, it was great."

"It was great," he told her. He knew the "but" was coming—he could feel it—but he wanted to prolong its occurrence as long as he could.

She smiled gently and gazed down towards her lap. "Castle, I don't think we should…it's just, when I go back to work in a couple weeks things are going to be crazy. We have to find the person that did this. We still don't know who hired that man to kill my mother. Not to mention the fact that murders in New York City aren't just going to stop because we want them to. I'm going to need my partner there with me to help me out, to come up with those great out-of-the-box theories that keep us all thinking."

"And you'll have me," he assured her.

"But just as a partner," she told him. He stared her down, just waiting for the prime moment to jump in and challenge her logic. She sighed and tilted her head to the side, softening her gaze. "I know we have these…these feelings for each other but-"

"I don't just have feelings for you. I love you, Kate. I didn't just say that because I thought you were dying. I love you." He reached for her hand but she pulled back.

"I'm not saying it will never happen between us. That's practically the opposite of what I'm saying. I just want you to know that when I go back I'm going to be focused one hundred and ten percent on work and I want you to respect that." She could see the uncertainty, the hurt in his eyes and added a slightly more desperate, "Please."

"Yeah," he said quickly then looked down at his hands clasped against the counter. "Yeah, I understand. Just, uh, just call me or text me with the date once you figure it out and I'll…I'll see you at the 12th."

"Thank you, Castle," she said genuinely. Then, without another word she slipped off the chair, hurried as much as her arm would allow back in to the bedroom, retrieved her purse and medication, and left the apartment.

Fifteen minutes later Martha descended the stairs with her eyes trained on the floor. "Don't mind me, just headed out to the school. I'll-" she stopped immediately when she allowed herself one stolen glance in the direction of the kitchen. She saw two empty plates and one very depressed looking man. "Where's Kate?" she ventured cautiously.

"Gone," he sighed, standing up and taking the plates to the sink. "She wants us to be partners—just partners."

Martha's heart sank. "Oh, Richard, I am sorry."

"I just…I don't understand!" he said with frustration. "She's the one who came here. She came to me! She's the one who…" he let his voice trail off when he remembered he wasn't around the poker table with other famous writers like himself.

"I realize that and that does mean something, but you have to remember the trauma she's been through. Not to mention the fact that you told her you love her and-"

"How is that traumatic?!" he demanded.

"To most women it wouldn't be," she told him wisely. "But she isn't exactly the heart-on-her-sleeve type is she?"

"No," he mumbled.

"See, there you go. Just give it some time and look on the bright side—at least she didn't tell you she never wanted to see you again," Martha smiled.

Rick gave her an unappreciative look. "Thank you, Mother, for your positive outlook on my life, like always."

"That's what I'm here for, Dear."


	3. Chapter 3

"No, Esposito! The other left!" Rick groaned as he stared up at the crooked _Welcome Back Beckett!_ banner he'd purchased. Was the banner a little much? Probably. The banner combined with the balloons, cake, and streamer decorated murder board were definitely too much. The real question was: would she kill him when she saw it? He honestly was not sure but luckily he didn't have to wait long to find out.

"She's coming," Ryan announced with a hiss as he scurried in to the precinct's main room. Esposito finished tying up the banner than hurried to join his colleges next to her desk. She rounded the corner, looked up, and froze. "Surprise!" the three men chorused.

For a moment, her facial expression was frozen. Then, a smile broke out. "You guys…what is this?"

"He did it," Esposito said, pointing towards Rick, ready to pass off any and all blame.

"We all did it," Rick told her.

"You didn't have to," she said as she finished the walk to her desk. She dropped her purse in to the bottom desk drawer. She folded her arms across her chest and felt that now familiar twinge in her right shoulder. Four weeks in that ridiculous brace put her on the road to recovery. She started physical therapy the week before and it was helping, but she knew it would be a while longer until she was back to one hundred percent. "This is great, guys. Thanks."

"Well, we missed you," Ryan told her.

"I missed you guys too," she said looking at him, then Esposito, and finally to Rick.

He gazed back to her, not even bothering to hide the longing in his eyes. He had not seen her since the morning she left his apartment. He hadn't spoken to her either save the text message he received confirming her first day back. She was breathtaking as always, but their time apart magnified her elegance on a level he didn't know was possible.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better, thanks. Glad to be back."

"Well I'm glad to be back too." As he spoke he could not resist the urge to reach his hand out and run it gently across the upper part of her left arm. "Just think of all the great crime scenes we missed while we were away."

"Oh," she chuckled lightly. "Did Ryan and Esposito fill you in?"

"Yes! We missed one where the body was in two pieces—two pieces!"

"How will I ever recover?" she jested dully.

As soon as Rick inquired about her wellbeing, the second half of their crime solving quartet wisely retired to their half of the office. "Dude," Esposito began in a tone just barely above a whisper. "Look at this."

"Look at what?" Ryan responded.

Esposito nodded towards the conversing duo. "Look how they're acting. Almost as if they've, you know, slept together."

"What? No way. Beckett's been in the hospital."

"Not all this time, Bro. Twenty says they finally did."

Ryan gave him a skeptical look. "How are we gonna find out?"

Esposito shrugged. "We'll ask Castle. If he won't tell I'm sure Lanie will get it out of Beckett."

"But will she tell you? Isn't that some sort of girl code…"

"Oh," Esposito began, rubbing his hands together menacingly, "I have ways of making her talk."

"Dude," Ryan said, mildly disturbed.

"Sorry."

They broke apart their surreptitious conversation when Rick approached. "Hey guys, where did you put the plastic plates and forks for the cake?"

"In the break room," Ryan informed him. "So, uh, is this the first time you've seen Beckett since she was shot?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. No I saw her once," he said absentmindedly as he watched her sit down carefully at her desk and brush away some of the confetti on her keyboard.

"In the hospital? Or did you go visit her at her apartment?" Esposito asked.

"She came to visit me. Why?" he asked with slight suspicion.

"Nothing," Ryan replied while Esposito said, "No reason." This further alerted Rick's suspicion. "We were just wonder if-"

"Oh, good, you're here." A tall, fair-skinned woman with jet black hair pulled in to a tight bun at the nape of her neck entered the room, interrupting the men's mischief. "Detective Beckett I presume," she said as she crossed the room in two strides and landed beside Kate's desk. "I'm Marie Taylor, your new captain."

"O-oh," Kate said, standing and extending her right hand with noticeable delicacy. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you as well," the captain said, shaking the younger woman's hand. She rotated on her heel and peered across the squad room. "And you must be Richard Castle."

"I am indeed," he said, extending his hand to introduce himself with a firm handshake.

"I would like to speak with both if you if you wouldn't mind joining me in my office," Taylor told them before leading the way.

Rick followed her, shooting Kate a curious glance behind the new captains back. He paused at the entrance to the captain's office, letting Kate enter first. She took a step over the threshold and hesitated. Rick followed suit. It was strange being in that office for the first time without Montgomery behind the desk.

"Please, sit," she gestured towards the two chairs opposite her desk. They sat and she continued. "I've heard many good things about you—both of you."

"Thank you," Kate said with a soft smile.

"You have an impressive case-closure rate, Detective Beckett. Your reputation as well as the good words of your colleagues has given me more than enough information to be glad you're on my team. And Mr. Castle," Taylor turned her gaze to him and he plastered on a smile, "you're a writer, correct?"

"Yes and I'm very grateful to the 12th Precinct for allowing me to do my research here. It really has been invaluable." With this comment, he looked over to Kate, who met his eye briefly.

"Captain, Castle is my partner."

"No," Taylor corrected, "he is not." She let a beat go by before continuing. "Mr. Castle is not a law enforcement officer and therefore he cannot be your partner. He's a consultant of the department."

"I would hardly call him just a 'consultant,'" Kate said, sounding offended by the term and lighting a proud flame in Rick's heart.

Taylor offered a very small smile. "I am well aware of Mr. Castle's history with the department. Detectives Ryan and Esposito gave him a glowing review. I'm intrigued to see how this partnership, as you say, works and, if you don't mind, I'll be observing you two over the next few weeks."

"Of course," they said together. "Absolutely, Captain, it would be our pleasure," Kate added.

"Very good," she said, clasping her hands together on the desk. "Now, Detective Beckett, how are you feeling?"

"Great! I've been cleared for active duty once more," she said firmly.

"Yes, well, do try to take it easy. I'd feel much better if you'd let Ryan or Esposito tackle any criminals that need tackling in the next few weeks."

Kate offered a small smile. "I'll do my best, ma'am."

After thanking them for their time, the captain dismissed the crime solving duo from her office. Rick only waited until he thought they were out of earshot before whispering to Kate, "What was that about?"

"I'm not sure," she responded.

"What do you know about her?"

"About as much as you do at this point," she told him. "I've never heard of her before."

"Perhaps Ryan and Esposito can fill us in," he suggested. She nodded in agreement and they walked off in the direction of the rest of their team.

In Kate's opinion, neither Ryan nor Esposito were any help. Their opinion was simply that, thus far, they had no reason to think negatively about Captain Taylor and that she was—quote—Okay. At this, Kate grumbled a comment about men being unhelpful, which, naturally, Rick did not understand.

After a few brief moments of catching up and sharing cake, the quartette was called to their first crime scene. A man had been found stabbed at a New York City recycling facility. Upon arrival, they discovered the man was a recycling plant employee who had gone missing after his morning break. Other than the fact that he had been stabbed, not much else was discernable from the body, so Kate waited a few hours until Lanie could give her a full report.

"Forget this guy, he's already dead," Lanie began factually. "I want to hear about you."

"Lanie I'm fine," Kate insisted.

Lanie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Only her friend could describe a near death experience with such casualty. "Okay, what about you and Castle? I noticed he's not following you around like a little puppy dog today."

"Castle is helping Ryan and Esposito go through the recycling plant employee list for potential suspects," she said matter-of-factly.

"I see, but that doesn't answer my question. What's going on between you and Castle? Have you slept with him yet? Because you say no, I'm going to ask you why the hell not."

Kate cleared her throat and tucked some hair behind her ear. "I don't see how that's relevant."

"Relevant my ass. Kate, the man loves you."

"Castle doesn't love me. He-he might think he does, but he doesn't."

"Uh huh. Well the way I see it he's straight, he's single, and he's not a felon. Do you know how hard that is to find these days? That would be reason enough, but the fact of the manner is that the man does love you. How else would you explain all the crazy, irritating things he does?"

"Well…I…ugh!" she grunted with frustration and slammed her hands down on to the stainless steel table before her. "Can we just talk about the body?"

"Fine. He was stabbed three times in the chest. The fatal blow punctured his aorta. He would have bled out in minutes. There are no defensive wounds or bruises on his arms."

"He didn't put up a fight? Why would that be?" she asked somewhat rhetorically.

"I have no idea; that's your job," Lanie told her. "Why don't you go ask your shadow if he has any interesting theories?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I noticed in the comments that people were getting confused about why the new captain is named Taylor. Please keep in mind I wrote this in 2011 right after the Season 3 finale, so we didn't know who the new captain was yet.**

**Also, this fic is now rated M **

* * *

Rick tried to bring his A-game every single day when he went to the precinct. He knew Captain Taylor was watching him. He would have been able to tell that without his writer instinct. It seemed that every time he turned around (literally) there she was. His people-observing intuition told him that she didn't quite buy in to his "doing research" façade. Then again, after three years and three books, who would?

He and Kate were back to the old selves—taking on one case, knocking it down, and moving on to the next. He could tell she was working harder than usual to prove that her injury would not restrict in the least and it didn't, save that one time at the end of her first week back. She and Esposito were hot on the heels of a runaway suspect, but she pulled back and let Esposito take down the perp. For the rest of the day he noticed her doing more things with her left arm than with her right.

Despite the return to their crime fighting, Rick knew something was off in their partnership. They had moments, now. Not the good, heart-skips-a-beat moments like they had before but awkward moments. They would laugh and share a smile about something and then suddenly she'd stop smiling and look away.

He tried—lord knows he tried. At first, he was subtle. "Hey, are you hungry? I'm starving. Gonna run out for Chinese, what can I get you?" The more walls she put up, the less subtle he became. He invited her to movies, charity events, and even once to a concert, but each time he faced the same response: "Sorry, Castle, I have to work. Maybe some other time."

Six weeks after their return to the precinct, he was at his wits end. He couldn't take anymore; his heart couldn't take anymore. Every moment with her was a cruel joke. He'd seen just how wonderful they could be together. That night they spent in his bed taunted him every time they were together, but she just wasn't giving in, which meant he was left with only one choice: giving up.

"Hey, um, I think I'm gonna head up to the Hamptons tomorrow." It had been yet another grueling week for them, but their murderer was finally behind bars. Kate, Ryan and Esposito were left with stacks of paperwork; he was there for moral support, seated dutifully in the chair beside her desk.

She set down her pen and smiled at him. "Long weekend?"

"No, no I'm going to stay for more than the weekend. A week…maybe two or three."

Her brow rose with surprise. "O-oh? That long?"

"Yeah see my editor has been hounding me for a few chapters of _Heat of the Moment_ and I've been so busy I just can't focus, you know? So I'm gonna go out there, clear my head, and write."

"Well that's good." She nodded to him, picked up her pen and moved on to the next blank form to fill out. "I hope you get lots of work done."

He made to stand up, but could not help himself from making one last effort. "You…you should come with me."

She dropped her pen once more and looked at him wide-eyed. "Come with you?"

"Yeah. Getaway from the city. Rest. Relax. Dare I say it – have some fun," he whispered to her, mustering up as much playfulness as he could.

She parted her lips as though she was going to respond, but no sound came out for several moments. "Y-you know I would like a vacation but I can't. I used up all my time when I was in the hospital."

"And yet somehow leave time after being shot in the line of duty and vacation time is not the same thing," he said pointedly. He stood and turned to leave, but rotated back towards her. "Think about it; it's an open invitation. You know how to get a hold of me if you change your mind." With that and a goodbye to the guys, he disappeared.

For several minutes Kate sat at her desk, staring blankly at the arrest paperwork in front of her. She startled when Esposito rolled up his desk chair beside her. "Go," he said simply.

"Go…where?" she asked with genuine confusion.

"To the Hamptons," Ryan answered when he appeared behind his partner.

She gave them both an annoyed look. "You were listening to us?"

"Maybe. C'mon girl, you gotta go," Esposito encouraged. "If not for you, for us—we wanna know what Castle's beach mansion looks like."

"And what? You girls are afraid he won't invite you?"

"Well he hasn't so far," Ryan said with an almost sigh.

"No, he invited Beckett. It's a shame she's too chicken to go."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Esposito, but I know what you're trying to do and it won't work."

He shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. It's your life. If you don't want to have any fun, you don't have to."

It took her another full week to work up the courage to call him. She thought about it just about every second of every day. Every time she sat at her desk and saw that empty chair beside her, her heart ached painfully. She missed his face. She missed the smell of his aftershave. She even missed the way his eyes flickered when he was excited over one of his own outlandish theories.

She must have opened her phone's address book and scrolled down to his name half a dozen times, but each time she closed her phone. She wouldn't give in because she knew exactly what would happen if she did, but damn, did she want to.

Finally, one frustrating evening alone in her bathtub with a drained glass of red wine on the floor beside her she gave in. Her finger pressed down on that small green phone-shaped icon beside his name. She held her breath as it rang in her ear, constantly fighting the terror demanding she hang up. He answered on the fourth ring and she nearly dropped the phone in to the bathwater from nerves.

She somehow managed to have a halfway intelligent conversation with him, asking if it was alright if she came to visit him that Friday shortly after lunch. He agreed happily and told her he couldn't wait for her arrival. She echoed these sentiments, hung up the phone, and then sunk beneath the water wondering what she had just done.

After a grueling few hours of travel, Kate's taxi arrived at his beach home. The gravel drive was gated and a large overgrowth of trees and bushes hid the house from view of the main road. She paid her driver and pulled her overnight bag over her shoulder as she approached.

After searching for a doorbell or callbox for several moments she spotted a keypad along the left side of the gate. When she approached, she spotted a stickie note beside the panel. She snatched it off the wall and read: _Kate_, _the pass code is Nikki Heat's birth year. Hint: you have __a lot__ in common with her._ She rolled her eyes slightly and punched the numbers 1-9-8-0. She heard the gate unlock with a click.

Several hundred feet down the gravel drive, the home came in to view. Kate actually stopped walking when she saw it. It was, without a doubt, the most perfect beach home she'd ever seen.

The one-and-a-half story wood shingled structure strongly resembled a cottage straight out of a Disney fairytale. Dozens of windows broke up the sectioned structure, made even more dramatic looking by rooflines and dormer windows. Honestly, she was not sure what she had expected when she thought of his beach home, but it certainly would have been much more elaborate—more Castle—than this homey cottage.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she continued her trek up the stone path and to the front door. She didn't even have to knock; the door whipped open the second her sneaker hit the front porch. "Kate," he grinned when he pulled the door open. "Welcome."

"H-hi," she smiled, stuffing her hands down in to the pockets of her jean shorts.

"Well come in, don't be shy." He stepped back and allowed her to cross the threshold, swooping in to kiss her cheek when she did so. "Did you find it ok?"

"Yes. Castle, this house is amazing."

"Ah yes. Alexis picked it out when she was five. She said it reminded her of the cottage from Sleeping Beauty."

Kate chuckled. "That's funny; that's exactly what I was thinking."

"Mm," he nodded. "It's a little small—only three bedrooms, two bathrooms—but it has too many memories to sell. C'mon, I'll give you a tour."

He lead the way from the hall, which faced a large staircase, to the left, which held a solarium, which he obviously used as his office due to the large desk with open laptop. Through there, they went around to the back of the house which held a view of the patio and, in the distance, the ocean. The back wall was almost solidly windows, illuminating the kitchen well. The kitchen merged with a dining area and finally a seating area filled with unbelievably comfortable looking sofas.

"You're really going to like this," Rick told her as he led the way to the French doors behind one of the sofas. He opened them both simultaneously, letting their interior curtains billow out like clouds from heaven.

The room concealed behind the doors was obviously the master bedroom. The walls were painted a blue so pale it was almost like clear water. The entire room followed the pale blue and white color pallet with ocean-themed pictures hung all around. The central focus was the canopy bed. White curtains hung at the four corners; they danced around the room as the sea breeze from open windows tickled them. The bed was made with dozens of white pillows and a white comfortable that strongly resembled marshmallows. He was right; she loved it.

"Wow," she concluded, unable to think of any other words.

"I know, isn't it great?" he said with a hint of his infamous child-like excitement. "You can sleep here tonight; I'll take one of the upstairs rooms."

Her head whipped in his direction. "Oh no, Castle, I couldn't. I-"

He held up his hand, refusing her protest. "You'll sleep here tonight."

"Thank you."

He smiled. "Of course. You wouldn't get the full Hamptons experience otherwise. Speaking of—I made dinner reservations for seven. Did you bring that cocktail dress I recommended?"

She nodded and patted her bag. "Got it."

"Excellent. Now I'll let you get settled in. I'll be at my desk if you need anything."

After he disappeared, Kate dropped her bag at the food of the luxurious bed and took one more disbelieving look around the dream-like space. With a heavy exhale, she collapsed back on the mattress and gripped one of the posts. Her heart raced at the prospect of their date that evening, but she did not regret her decision to come. It was bound to be the best vacation she had in years.

"Kate?" Rick stood at the edge of the bedroom doors and called out in the direction of the shut bathroom door. "Are you almost ready?" It was six forty-two and, depending on traffic, it could take up to fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant. In the Hamptons, everything was cutthroat, including dinner reservations. If you didn't make your reservation, they gave your table away and no matter how much he wanted to use his celebrity influence it only went so far. Celebrities all but outnumbered regular people in the Hamptons.

The bathroom door whipped open and Kate appeared in the doorframe. She wore a mid-thigh length black dress with a high halter neck and a keyhole slit in the middle of her chest. Her face was glowing with the lightest touch of makeup and her sexy hair—his favorite feature of hers besides her eyes—was swept back from her face.

She grabbed a clutch purse from the edge of the bed and walked past him in to the sitting room. Two steps later she turned and looked over her shoulder. "Coming?"

"Wha? Oh yeah. I'm coming." To hell with dinner, he thought. He just wanted to stand there and stare at her all night long, but he managed to put one foot in front of the other enough to lead the way to the waiting Mercedes (his "regular" car).

Dinner was just as pristine as he'd imagined it. They had great wine, delicious seafood, and, best of all, not one moment of awkward conversation. They were back to the old Castle and Beckett. Laughing, joking, and teasing one another. They even managed to stick to topics other than work. They spoke about her college years and his early years as a struggling writer.

As they drove home, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon, illuminating the sky with a fiery red glow. On their way back to the house from the car, she stopped on the porch, turned towards the west, and watched the colors fade in the sky. He watched her and saw the simple joy in her face at watching a sunset after a wonderful date.

Much to his surprise, she grabbed his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. He looked down at their joined hands, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest, and then back at her. Could it be the miracle he'd hoped for? Would he get a second chance to show just how much he loved her?

Not a minute later, she dropped her hand from his and turned toward the house. The setting sun was mostly gone; the sky had lost its colored appeal.

Rick unlocked the door of the house and stepped inside feeling rather dejected. He had been so close—so very close. "Well, um," he turned to face her, but with her standing in the shadows of the hall he couldn't met her eye. "I guess I-"

His words were lost when her lips crashed in to his. She gripped his face with both hands for a moment before letting her fingertips comb through his hair and come to rest at the nape of his neck. Using this leverage, she pulled her body closer to his. He responded instinctually and moved his hands from her waist to her back.

"Mm Kate," he mumbled through their kiss, trying to form one logical thought in his brain, but all reason was lost and replaced with pure joy.

"Shh," she hushed him while sliding her hands under his suit jacket and pushing the item off his shoulders. He almost laughed at how similar their conversation was only this time there would be no hang-ups from injury; this was purely about passion.

How they made it to the bedroom without running in to every piece of furniture in their path, he would never know, but before he knew it he was being shoved lightly against the mattress. He landed with a soft thump and, for the first time since their arrival home, caught a glimpse of her expression which he could only describe as purely animalistic.

She dove on his lips once more, her fingers clawing at his belt. With that item gone, she moved to the button and zipper on his pants. As he sat frozen on the bed, she wasted no time in flicking open the button holding the dress straps behind her neck and pulling open the zipper in the middle of her back, allowing the garment to pool at her feet.

She stood before him in a black strapless bra, matching thong, and sky-high heels wearing that oh-so-perfect "Kate Beckett is in charge so watch out" expression. Rick resisted the urge to call out a thank you to God, Karma, and whoever else would listen. This was literally his fantasy come true.

When she came at him like a lioness toward her prey, he was ready for her. Just as their lips touched he wrapped his arm around her waist and flipped her on to the bed. He then kneeled on either side of her leg and engulfed her lips with his. She undid the buttons of his shirt as they kissed, letting him be in charge—for the moment, anyway.

They continued their battle, each one taking their turn undressing, caressing, and kissing the other until the only item that remained were Kate's heels. "Leave 'em on," Rick said devilishly. She arched one eyebrow at him and then laughed as he broke his poker face to wiggle his brows at her.

He took away her laugh by pressing his lips against hers and, a moment later, driving himself in to her. She gasped and clawed at his back as their hips rocked together, each thrust going deeper until they climaxed together and collapsed, panting against the sheets.

After lying still for a minute trying to regulate her breathing, Kate sat up suddenly, untangled her limbs from those of her bedmate and began to unbuckle her shoes. After tossing them aside, she flipped herself over and straddled him, placing one knee on either side of his hip. He gave her a curious expression; she grinned wickedly down at him. "You didn't think we were done, did you, Rick? We're just getting started."


	5. Chapter 5

Rick awoke to the sounds of birds chirping, ocean waves crashing, and the soft breathing of his lady love. He opened his eyes and gazed down at her body spooned against his. Her hair was a wreck, her eye makeup smudged, but she never looked so beautiful. He snuggled his body closer to hers and heard her exhale a happy sigh.

"Good morning," he said and kissed her neck.

"Morning," she sighed then covered her mouth to yawn and stretch out her legs. She rolled over to face him and gazed up with those disarming pools of chocolate brown. "Sleep well?"

"Very. You?"

"Very," she echoed. She gazed in to his eyes for a moment and reached up her hand to brush back a floppy section of hair dropping over his forehead. With a soft smile she asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"Always." He tucked a hand under his face to prop it up off the pillow. He sensed a story coming; he loved stories.

"You remember the night we met? Your book release party when I came to ask you questions about that copycat murder?" He nodded and she continued. "That wasn't the first time we met."

"It wasn't?"

She shook her head. "Four years earlier I got a Derek Storm novel signed by you at the Barnes & Noble on 5th," she confessed while biting on her thumbnail.

"You're kidding!" He was astounded that he did not remember. True, book signings typically involved a heavy amount of chaos and he did sign hundreds of books—ninety percent of them for women—but he could hardly believe his past self hadn't taken one look at her and forgotten how to breathe.

She shook her head. "Nope. The book is under my bed under a bunch of old sweaters."

He laughed. "Why?"

"Because I was embarrassed! I mean, back then I stood in line for over an hour all giddy that I was going to meet my favorite author and now…well, now that I know you it's embarrassing."

He grinned impossibly wide. "I'm your favorite author?"

Her cheeks gained the slightest hint of pink. "Maybe."

"Why Kate Beckett, you flatter me."

"There's more," she told him.

He gave a giddy little laugh. "Well do go on."

She snuggled a little closer to her pillow and tucked her hands beneath her head. "When my mother died, I was in a really dark place. My father was drinking all the time. The cops had no leads. I was so alone I just…I didn't know what to do with myself. One night I was walking through a book store and I saw a display of the latest Derek Storm book. I though…why not, but I wanted to start at the beginning of the series, so I bought the first book and I finished it that night. The next day I went back to the store and bought all the Derek Storm novels, read them all in less than two weeks, and then bought everything else you'd ever written.

"I needed answers. I needed a "who" and a "why." My mother case didn't have that. I needed to know that somewhere, somehow this would make sense. Those books…they made sense. They saved me from spiraling away in to…" she paused to rub her brow. "I don't know what. I just…I needed you to know that."

Once again at a loss for words, Rick did the only thing he could think of. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead for a full minute. Her confession alone was touching, but coming from her—the woman who played everything close to the vest—it meant even more. "Thank you," he said, "for telling me." She merely smiled in response.

"So…Breakfast?" Rick offered sitting up in bed. "Pancakes?"

"Sure," she responded. She watched as he stood from bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, and flashed her a cheeky grin before leaving the room. Once he was gone, she rolled over on to her back and stretched her body out full length. Then, dorky grin on her face, she slid out of bed and reached for her suitcase.

Kate's Saturday was what could easily be described as a rare, perfect day. Rick made her huge, fluffy pancakes for breakfast with fresh strawberries and blueberries on the side. As they ate, she quizzed him on his culinary talents. He explained them by informing her that a writer with writers block did just about anything to avoid staring at a blank computer screen.

After breakfast, she headed out to the beach while Castle excused himself to his laptop, stating that he had a brilliant scene idea he could not let escape. She wandered aimlessly across the private sandy area for almost an hour before she spotted him coming out of the house with beach chairs in tow. They sat together on the sand and had a picnic lunch until a mid-afternoon storm forced them inside. As lightning and thunder crashed overhead, they made love on the couch and discussed their favorite childhood vacations.

For dinner, Chef Castle prepared one of his signature dishes—spaghetti and meat sauce. She insisted on washing the dishes since he had been in charge of all the cooking. As she washed, he sat at the counter sipping wine and watching her with intrigue. Kate Beckett was a natural at many things; being domestic was not one of them and that amused him endlessly.

After their meal, he once again excused himself to his laptop while she snuggled up in bed with a title she pulled from his bountiful bookshelves. It was there she fell asleep only to awake hours later as he slid the book from her limp fingers and tucked her under the covers. When he joined her, she snuggled up to him and fell in to one of the most restful sleeps she'd had in years.

Sunday morning when Kate awoke she found herself alone in bed. After stretching and yawning, she slid off the mattress and shuffled her way in to the main room of the home. She could see him typing away on the other side of the staircase and decided not to disturb him. Instead, she went to the kitchen and began searching the refrigerator for something to make for breakfast.

A loud bang and the sound of a muffled curse pulled Rick from his writing zone. Curious, he stood from his seat and tip-toed towards the kitchen. There she stood, her t-shirt drooping off one shoulder and her hair dangling sloppily across her eyes, a mess surrounding her. Pure amusement crossed his face as he walked forward. "So, you're kind of bad at this."

She shot him a glare. "Shut up, Castle."

"I think it's kind of endearing," he confessed then approached her mess cautiously. "So what do we have here?"

Her shoulders dropped and she dropped the skillet in her hand do the stovetop. "I was trying to make omelets."

"Would you like some help?" he offered. She gave a begrudging nod and stepped back, letting him take over.

"I'm usually not this bad at cooking."

"Well, in all fairness, they do put the instructions for those frozen meals right on the box," he said pointedly. This joke earned him a punch in the shoulder and he recoiled, whining.

"Baby," she muttered.

As Rick finished cooking the omelet she started, Kate set out plates and flatware, thinking that was one thing she could do correctly. "You know," he began, "you don't have to go back to the city today. You could…quit your job and stay out here with me."

"Ah but then who would solve the murders of New York City?"

He shrugged. "Ryan and Esposito?" After a moment they both exchanged glances and shook their heads, "Nah."

"No, unfortunately, I have to go back. I ordered a cab for 11. That gives me," she paused to glance at the clock on the stove, "not quite two hours, but I have to pack and shower."

He arched a devilish eyebrow at her. "Shower? Well that definitely sounds like a two-person job." She smiled in response; who was she to argue with that logic?

An hour and a half later she was zipping up her duffle bag and putting on her shoes, her heart much heavier than it had been when she first woke up. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom watching her. She turned and gave him a listless smile. "So when are you coming back to the city?" she asked him.

"Oh, um…I'm not sure."

She gazed at him curiously. "You're not sure? You seem to be making progress on your book," she said, gesturing towards the office area.

He nodded. "I am. I'm just…I'm not sure."

"Well, um," she paused to slip her hands in her back pockets. "It hasn't really been the same without my partner."

Rick nodded sadly and folded his arms across his chest. "Partner," he said with irritation as though the word itself was mocking him. "Is that what I'm going back to, Kate? Just your partner?"

She sighed and dug her toe in to the floor. "Castle, we discussed this…"

"You're right, we did—we talked about it two months ago—over two months ago! You said when you went back to work after your injury you were going to focus on work and I agreed. Well, Kate, you've been back at work for two months and you're doing just fine, so what's your excuse now?"

Her eyes narrowed briefly at him. "You don't understand-"

"No, I don't think you understand, so let me make it clear to you. I don't want to be your partner anymore, Kate. At least not just your partner. I want you; I want us. I want this," he said, gesturing towards the bed where they spent many blissful hours that weekend. "Don't you see? Don't you see what we could be?"

She swallowed hard and took a step away from him. Why did he have to do this? Couldn't they just end their weekend with a pleasant goodbye? "I-I thought I was clear."

"Yeah," he said, taking two steps towards her, "yeah, you were clear. You were clear back in New York how you turned down every invitation I offered you and stopped smiling at me whenever you caught yourself doing it. That was pretty damn clear. It was all clear until this weekend."

"This was vacation," she said as though that were an irrefutable defense.

He shook his head bitterly. "Don't lie to me, Kate. You owe me that much. Be honest with me. Tell me how you feel. I know you're scared, Kate, but did it ever occur to you that I might be scared too? That maybe I'm scared because in my whole life I've never felt this connected, this in love with anybody?"

She held his gaze for a moment longer before looking away. The burn of emotion in the back of her throat was too strong. "I…I have to go." She took three steps towards the door and then turned back to look at him, the expression on his face making her heart break apart instantaneously. "Th-thanks for letting me stay this weekend; I'll see you back in the city." With that, she hurried out the door leaving him shattered in her wake.

She all but sprinted down the driveway and flung herself in to the waiting cab. The cabbie barely drove three blocks before she broke down completely, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks and her breath coming in short, ragged sobs.

He was right; he was one hundred percent right. She knew he had every right to be angry with her. Hell, she might even have been mad at him if he _wasn't_ mad at her. Still, she stood by her decision to leave, to keep him at arm's length. For some reason she convinced herself that any romantic relationship they embarked on would end in a fiery catastrophe and then she'd lose him forever. At least, as her partner, she could keep him. That is, if he even wanted to stay.


	6. Chapter 6

For the remainder of that Sunday, Rick sat on the couch wondering where his wonderful weekend with Kate had gone so horribly wrong. His desire to write vanished the moment she walked out the door; he only wanted to mope. He couldn't even bring himself to go in to the bedroom that evening, and opted instead to sleep on the couch.

The next few days followed a similar pattern, alternating sulking inside while sulking with long walks on the beach. It all boiled down to disbelieve. In his heart he truly thought she would come around, it would just take time, but if a wonderful weekend together did not bring her walls crashing down, he wasn't sure what else to try.

Tuesday, over a week since he last saw her, he was once again seated at his computer, forcing his way through a new Nikki Heat chapter. His cell phone rang and he answered, so desperate for a break he didn't even care who was on the other end.

"Yo Castle, how's it hangin' man?" the cheerful voice of Esposito greeted him.

Pleasantly surprised, Rick smiled. "I'm not doing badly, how about yourself?"

"Not bad. Hey man look I got you on speaker here."

"Hey Castle," Ryan chimed in.

"Hello!" Castle said, smiling even larger.

"And Beckett's here too," Esposito informed him.

"H-Hi Castle," he heard her voice, though it was more distance than the men's voices, leaving him to wonder if she was merely standing further from the phone or try to be quiet so as to fly under the radar.

"Listen, Castle, we have a case we want to run by you."

"A case?" he said with intrigue.

"Yeah, we need a theory, because we're stumped," Ryan told him. Then he explained the situation: a man was found shot dead in his apartment. The apartment doors and windows were locked from the inside and there were no signs of forced entry. "So the question is: how did the killer get in and out?"

"Oh I know this one!" his giddiness returning instantly at the prospect of a new mystery to solve. "Ice bullet! No…Ghost killer!"

"It's not a ghost killer, Castle," the annoyed voice of Kate informed him.

"It could be."

"Let's assume it's not," Esposito added.

"Ok. Ok. And it's not a suicide?"

"No for two reasons. One, we didn't find a gun at the scene. Two, it would be incredibly difficult to shoot yourself in the back," Kate told him.

"Shot in the back? Hmm. And the door was locked?"

"Yes, both dead bolts."

"Have you checked the junk drawer?"

"The junk drawer?" Ryan questioned.

"Yes," Rick said. "I assume you checked the victim's key ring to make sure his apartment key was still on it. He would have had a spare key somewhere inside the apartment in case he had to give it out to someone. Mother always throws ours in the junk drawer."

Silence filled the other end of the line and Rick could just see in his mind's eye the three of them exchanging glances. "Uh, thanks, we'll look in to it." Esposito said.

Rick could then hear shuffling on the other end of the line and a click as though someone had picked up the receiver. "Castle?" her voice filled his ear and made his heart ache painfully.

"Yes, Kate?"

"Do you, um, do you know when you're coming back to the city?"

"Well I-"

"Because I really want you to come back. I…I need to talk to you about some things."

Refusing to get his hopes up, Rick sighed. "I…I have a meeting with my publisher on Friday. I'll be in the city before then…I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Castle," she said and he could hear the genuine relief in her voice.

As Rick put his phone back on the desk he stared at it and rubbed his chin. If she wanted to talk to him to convince him to come back and be her partner again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. Then again if she—no, he wouldn't let himself think it. It hurt too much.

* * *

Thursday morning Rick arrived back at his apartment after a month-long stay at his beach retreat. He showered and shaved for the first time since the morning Kate left him. Then, dressed in a crisply pressed navy blue shirt and camel-toned jacket, he headed off to the precinct.

Rick had to admit as he walked in to the familiar building that he would miss the 12th if he was unable to make regular pilgrimages there. Something about cop life burrowed its way under his skin. He could have never been a cop, of course, due to his jumpiness around bullets and scary thugs, but he appreciated the tough work they did for the city more than he ever thought he could.

He hardly took three steps on to the homicide floor when he ran in to his old partners. "Castle's back!" Ryan announced happily. The two shook hands and a moment later Esposito joined them, giving him a similar greeting.

"Dude, it's been boring around here without you!" Esposito told him.

Rick chuckled. "I'm sure it has. Is Beckett around?"

"Yeah I think I saw her go in to the break room a minute ago," Ryan informed him. Rick nodded a thank you and headed off in that direction. As he rounded the corner of the hall he saw her standing a foot away from the coffee machine, her arms folded across her chest. He paused for a moment, contemplating the best entrance, but in doing so realized that she was speaking with Captain Taylor. It took him just a second to deduce that their conversation was a serious one.

"…He's one of the best men I've ever know," Kate said, her voice insistent. "He's smart and intuitive. He's sharp. He thinks outside the box and yes sometimes his theories are a little unorthodox but I'll be damned if he hasn't been imperative to every case I've had. Captain, you don't understand how much-"

"I do understand, Detective," the Captain told her. "I watched you two on your last case together. He is smart. I saw his value, but the fact of the matter is that he is not a cop; he's a civilian and he should not be given an all access pass to crime scenes."

"He doesn't have an all access pass! He," she cut off her speech abruptly, cleared her throat and continued in a softer tone. "Captain, please. Castle is an important part of my team."

"Yes, I understand that. It's clear you care about him very much but you had a team before him and you'll have a team after him. If it's a matter of wanting a partner to work with that can be arranged."

"I already have a partner," Kate said defiantly. The captain cleared her throat. "Please, ma'am I am begging you to reconsider."

"I'm sorry, Detective, but my decision is final. Effective immediately Richard Castle is no longer a consultant of the NYPD. I trust you will pass along the message."

After her words, Rick heard footsteps moving in the other direction. He was thankful she chose the other exit so he did not have to come face to face with her and pretend he hadn't heard what was just said.

With a heavy heart, he took a deep breath. So this was it; this was how it ended. Ironic that he no longer had to struggle with the choice to walk away or to stay; the decision had been made for him.

He craned his neck to gaze in to the break room and saw Kate wringing her hands out in front of her. Even at that distance he could see her boiling and just about to break. It came just a moment later with frustrated tears spilling over her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand and turned towards the wall.

Using that opportunity, Rick took three large strides in to the room and said gingerly, "Kate?"

He heard her sniff and could see her hands moving across her face from behind, presumably wiping the tears away. She spun around with a fake smile across her face. "Castle, hey. I'm glad you came."

He took a step closer to her. "Are you ok?"

She let out a breathily laugh and wiped the corner of her right eye with a knuckle. "Did you hear what the captain said?" He bobbed his head once in confirmation. She shrugged and moved her hands to her hips. "So…I guess that's it, huh?"

"Kate," he spoke as he took one more step towards her.

"I'm okay," she said while nodding vigorously. Both her tone and expression told him she was anything but "okay."

"The captain is right, you know. You're and amazing cop with or without me. Ah, who are we kidding—you're definitely a better cop when I'm not around pulling on your pigtails."

She shook her head and spoke genuinely. "That's not true."

"Look, Kate, you and I both knew this had an expiration date. I mean, honestly I'm shocked I got away with it this long. I mean, who needs three years of research to write a book?" he shrugged comically, trying to lighten the mood. "You're going to be fine without me, Kate. You and I both know that."

Her bottom lip trembled violently as she looked towards the floor. Two tears escaped her eyes but she made no move to brush them away. When she looked back at him a steady stream of them began to fall. "But what if I want you."

He shut his eyes and counted to three before opening them again. He had never seen her cry before so he was unable to prepare himself for the way he was feeling. Each of her tears was like a stab in the heart and he didn't know how much longer he could stand strong. "Kate-"

"No, Rick, listen. You were right. You were right about me. I am scared. I've always been scared. I…I keep one foot out the door, ready to run when things get tough or if they get too real. Real is scary; real can hurt you…but without having anything real you…you don't get the good things either.

"The truth is that I love you." The words left her lips so easily she almost laughed. God, she had been scared to say them but once they were out there they felt right. "I love you. I've loved you for a long time, actually. I just…"

"You were scared," he jumped in, providing the words she was at a loss to find. She nodded. He took two steps towards her so they were barely a foot apart. "Are you still scared, Kate?"

She closed her eyes and nodded as two final tears followed the same trail as the rest. "Yes," she whispered. When she opened her eyes he was right there in front of her, his body barely an inch from hers. "But not scared enough to fight this anymore. I-"

Her words were lost when his lips crashed in to hers. She let him gather her up in her arms and kiss her just like he had so many times before, only this time she kissed him back with everything she had.

After several minutes their lips broke apart but their foreheads remained together. His arms were around her waist; hers around his neck. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking on the second word.

"Shh, it's okay," he said, moving one hand up to stroke her cheek though their foreheads remained together. "It doesn't matter anymore."

They stood this way for a moment as Kate breathed away her tears. Then, with a sniff, she dropped her hands to his biceps. "I…I can't believe we'll never work another case together."

"I know, I know," he sighed before kissing the top of her head. They were silent for a minute before a sly smile crossed his face and he pulled back to look her in the eye. "Hey, I have an idea. How about you move in with me and then we can talk about your cases when you come home from work?"

She let out an astounded gasp and took a step away from him. "Move in with you? I'm not moving in with you."

"Why not? Alexis is going to college soon—something I'm in complete denial about, by the way. My mother keeps saying she's moving out so statistically she has to be right one of these days. Then I'll be all alone." Though he found this conclusion to be entirely rational, he still saw skepticism in her face. "C'mon," he said enticingly, giving her waist a squeeze. "You know you want to."

Kate bit her bottom lip and stared at the buttons on his shirt. Damn, she did want to. She wanted that weekend in the Hamptons to be her every day: waking up in Rick's arms, sharing breakfast with him, making love to him whenever she wanted. She wished for a moment that she could be a different person—a free-spirited, spontaneous person—who would say to hell with caution and move in with him immediately. Yet, she was not that person; she was too rational to do anything like that. Still…his offer was very tempting.

"I…I'll think about it, okay Castle?"

"Deal," he grinned before kissing her sweetly. "Now," he sighed heavily, "I guess we have to go break the bad news to Ryan and Esposito."

"What? That you're finally off the market?"

"Ha-ha," he responded flatly. She grinned at him.

With one of his arms still strong around her waist, the two of them re-entered the squad room where they were immediately met with cheers and applause lead by Ryan and Esposito. Kate blushed furiously and buried her head in Rick's shoulder. Wasn't it bad enough that they gave her grief for being Nikki Heat? Now she was going to be the detective that cried and made up with her boyfriend in the break room.

As the cheers died down, the two instigators approached. "Castle, we're gonna miss you around here, but I think I speak for everyone when I say: _finally!_" Ryan said, gesturing between the two of them. "So when you gonna get married?"

Kate's jaw dropped and she glared at him. Ryan immediately shrank. "Don't mind him," Esposito defended. "He just doesn't want to be the only married guy on the team."

"Ah yes," Castle began nostalgically. "The life of a bachelor…oh how I'll miss it—ow!" he groaned when Kate jabbed him the ribs. "I'm kidding I'm kidding! I wouldn't trade single life for this." With that, he tightened his grip on her waist and swung her towards him. He then smothered her lips with his, earning them a catcall from across the room.

"Castle!" she hissed and scrambled out of his embrace. "Not here! I already get made fun of enough because of you!" He raised his hands defensively and shrugged, showing he hadn't meant any harm by it. Though she glared at him, she wasn't really angry; she was too happy.


	7. Epilogue

Six glorious months. It has been six glorious months since they moved in together and it finally felt like everything was falling in to place.

At first, Rick thought he would never convince her to take that step. His charm level was up to two hundred percent as he pointed out the benefits of cohabitation. He'd point out how great it was every morning they woke up together at her place or, more often, at his. All the methods he thought were surefire blew up in his face, which was why it seemed appropriate that the thing that finally convinced her wasn't something he planned at all.

For two and a half months after he officially parted ways with the NYPD they dated regularly. Dating workaholic Kate was no easy task, yet Rick was up for the challenged. There were more canceled dinners than not and work was always the excuse. If she canceled too many times in a row, he'd simply bring her dinner at the station and sit there while she, Ryan and Esposito hashed through another case.

This little move proved beneficial in two ways. In addition to spending time with her, he was able to provide his opinion on whatever crime solving issue they faced. At first he knew the captain was irritated with him, but the more times he happened they came to a silent but mutual agreement that as long as he wasn't roaming through crime scenes he would not be punished for providing a theory or two—especially if those theories lead the team in the right direction.

Rick's favorite days were the ones after she closed a big case. When all the paperwork was completed, she would come over and they'd share a glass of wine while she regaled him with the story of her latest takedown. He loved to hear the pride in her voice. Though, arguably, he loved her post-case-closure enthusiastic love making a little more than the story.

It was around the tenth week of their relationship that the film version of _Heat Wave_ was released and, naturally, Rick was invited to the New York release party. He invited Kate as his date and after some arm-twisting she agreed. Martha took her shopping for an appropriate dress and their plans were set.

Rick felt like the luckiest man in the world strolling down the red carpet with gorgeous Kate in her sexy, skin-tight one shoulder gown on his arm. When he paused to do an interview, the identity of his date—the real Nikki Heat—was revealed and the paparazzo's interest in their photograph tripled.

Sensing her discomfort, Rick hurried them inside, where they met familiar faces—the cast of the movie, some of whom they'd already met. After rubbing elbows with their on-screen alter egos, they watched the movie, and Kate listened as Rick griped about every one of the scenes they'd removed or changed from his book. At one huge added plot, she thought he was going to jump out of his seat with outrage so she took his hand in hers in an attempt to calm him down. Luckily, it worked.

Later that night after more champagne and partying than she'd done in quite some time, Rick took her home, but she wouldn't let him leave. They both fell asleep quickly, though she awoke a few hours later, just before dawn. She watched him sleep, watched his eyelids flutter as he dreamed, and wondered why she'd fought loving him for so long.

When he awoke, the first thing she told him was that she wanted to move in with him. Still half asleep, he was dumbfounded, but thrilled. Unable to stop himself, he asked what finally pushed her to the decision and she told him that after seeing part of his world, she understood that part of him better than she ever knew she could.

Rick thought that while she had agreed to move in with him she would drag her feet and move only one box a week, drawing the process out as long as she could, but he couldn't have been further from the truth. She had half her clothes moved by the end of the weekend and the rest of her belongings inside a month and, if Rick had to guess, she never seemed happier.

Their cohabitation was blissful, which is why taking the next step seemed natural. Still, there were steps he needed to take. First, the ring. Kate was not a flashy five-carat-diamond type girl as his second wife had been. No, she needed something subtle but elegant. With the ring chosen, he sought the opinion of one of the other important women in his life.

Much to his chagrin, Rick's mother was still living with him. Things could have been worse. His apartment had two floors and Martha mostly kept the second, though there was only one kitchen in the home and more often than either party would have liked, Martha walked in on an intimate moment between Kate and Rick.

Rick found her seated at the kitchen counter sipping a mid-afternoon glass of wine. Kate was neck-deep in a case and would not be seen or heard from for the rest of that day; this was the perfect time.

"Mother, I need to speak with you about something. I…I'm going to ask Kate to marry me," he said as he stood a foot behind her.

Martha set down her glass, rotated her chair and folded her hands across her knee. "Is that so?"

"Yes it is." He let a silent moment go by before asking, "Well don't you have an opinion on this?" For his previous two marriages his mother had voiced a very loud—and very negative—opinion. Most notably on his second marriage since Martha flat out hated his bride (in hindsight he realized her good judgment but by that point the damage had been done).

"My opinion is that its wonderful, Richard. Kate is a dream. I can't think of anyone better. You've finally picked the right one—third time's the charm, eh?"

He gave her an unappreciative look and she merely smiled. "I assume there's a ring?"

"Ah," he paused for dramatic effect before pulling the box from his coat pocket. He flipped it open and Martha peered down on it.

"That's it? With all your money you could have a least afforded a full carat."

"This is a full carat," he said with annoyance. "You know Kate—she's not flashy. I didn't want her to be mad at me; she tends to hit…or at least poke me really hard."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Well you know her better than I do, I suppose so if you think she'll be happy with it. I just want you to be happy, Dear."

Rick beamed. "I am, Mother."

"Well that's wonderful. So," she said picking up her wine goblet once more. "Have you and Kate talked about having children?"

"Children!" he almost gasped at the unexpected subject.

"Well, yes…Kate's what? Thirty-one? I'm sure she's starting to hear the ticking of her biological clock. And you're certainly not getting any younger."

"Thanks," he groaned.

She waved her hand casually. "Just saying."

"No, we haven't talked about it but I guess," he paused and allowed a flash of Kate cradling their child to fill his mind and warm his heart, "I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

"Good. I'm very happy for you Richard."

He thanked her and the excused himself to his study; he needed to call the other important lady in his life because he needed her opinion as well, even if she was away at school.

* * *

Three nights later the plan was set. He confirmed with Esposito that no last minute case had come up and then he set to work on the elaborate dinner he was making. He'd considered several options when choosing a proposal location, many of them quite elaborate, but at the end of the day he remembered who he was proposing to and knew that Kate would be more irritated than impressed by a proposal on the big screen at a Knicks's game. He chose an intimate, at home setting for his romantic ideas and hoped she would be impressed by it.

Table, candles, roses, food—everything was set by the time she arrived home. He greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. She expressed surprise and inquired about the occasion. He brushed it off as writers block and doing everything he could to avoid his deadline and, thankfully, she believed the ruse.

With their meal finished she began to clear the table, but he stopped her. "I have something for you."

Her brow furrowed lightly. "What?"

His heart thundering in his chest, Rick dipped his hand in to his jacket's inner pocket and produced the black jewelry box, which he slid across the table to her.

"What's this?" she asked, her tone playful. He shrugged and encouraged her to open it. As she did so, his heart soared. She may have been good at bluffing in an interview room, but he knew her well enough to know she genuinely did not expect a ring inside the box.

With the box's contents revealed, she let out a light gasp of, "Oh my god," and covered her mouth with her hand. Rick slid from his chair and took a knee beside her. Only then did she meet her gaze and he could see the tears forming in her eyes.

As a writer he'd written this scene several times with his perfected literary elegance. Yet, somehow, in real life, he always seemed at a loss for words. He could have gone on for hours about how much he cherished her, but yet the writer in him knew that sometimes less was more.

"Kate, will you marry me?" he asked simply.

She blinked and a tear slipped from her left eye and rolled down her cheek. "Yes, yes of course." She slid from the chair in to his arms and kissed him soundly. He wrapped his arms around her in response and held her as tightly as he could.

"Oh my god," she gushed a few minutes later, rubbing the tears from her cheeks. "This…I just…I don't know what to say except this ring is huge!"

Rick almost laughed at how her opinion differed from his mothers, but he merely smiled and avoided commenting. He plucked the ring from its velvety resting place and slid it on her finger before kissing the back of her left hand. "I love you," he told her.

"I love you, too. And as soon as we put this food away I'm going to show you just how much." She flashed him a devilish grin before standing, grabbing their plates and walking them to the kitchen sink. He watched as she deposited the dishes and then gazed down at her left hand with amazement.

Rick approached her slowly from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can I ask you a somewhat random question?"

"Mmmhm."

"Well my mother—after I told her I was going to ask you to marry me—she asked if we were going to have children and I, um, I wasn't sure what your opinion was on the subject so…"

For a moment she didn't move, but then she spun around in his arms, grinning. "It's funny you say that because I'd actually been thinking about that—becoming a mother—more and more lately. I guess I'm getting to be around that age… but yes I definitely want kids."

"You do?"

She nodded. "I always have I just…I wanted them to have a good father so we'd have a strong family, a great family like mine was and," she paused to look him directly in the eye, "I can't think of anyone who would be a better father than you."

Unable to respond with words, he merely captured her lips with his and held her body close. "Thanks," he sighed.

"For what?"

He shrugged, once again at a loss for words. "Everything."

She smiled at him. "Always."


End file.
